Reading the Alphabet of Trees

          To my Father

            *
I drive north in winter, stare
at the dark fierceness
of thin-brown trees gathered
in packs along the highway—
so close, so dense,
sunlight falls only as thread
between branches.

            *
Is there an alphabet
within the trees? The myth of you
driven to icy cliffs to drift
among the last bloodline
of weak-hearted dragons.
The trees: a makeshift home
where the dead practice
safe vision. The bulbs of your eyes
blinking with theirs.

            *
Perhaps your spirit will take shape
in a small, slight animal
and speak. Some form
of soft-footed grace. Or simply
return a single, white feather
off the back of a displaced
dove in December: lingerer of peace
you want me to see, so I might
let your absences go.

*First published in LIPS, and from the chapbook, Reading The Alphabet of Trees (Finishing Line, 2007)

Lisa Alexander Baron's latest chapbook is Reading the Alphabet of Trees (Finishing Line, 2007). Her poetry has been published in Paterson Literary Review, LIPS, Green Hills Literary Lantern, Potomac Review, The Comstock Review, Mad Poets Review, Philadelphia Poets, and others. She is a retired lawyer and soon-to-retire high school English teacher from the Philadelphia area. She is married to the poet Bill Van Buskirk and is otherwise ruled by her daughter, son, and fox terrier, Kazoo.